Catalyst
by TheDreamerLady
Summary: Dr. Deaton offers Stiles a unique opportunity. Life continues. Spoilers for all seasons, takes place directly after the events of season two.
1. You Can't Refuse

If I owned it, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction, I would be having chats with the actors about their character arcs this season.

Enjoy!

/`/`/`/`/`/`~~~~~~~~~~~~~/`/`/`/`/`/`/

It all started with a simple question. Actually, it all started when Stiles met Scott and decided that they would be friends for life. However, for the sake of simplicity, this story began when Mr. Deaton asked Stiles how the teen felt about learning something magic.

When Stiles first purchased the jeep, he'd never assumed that he'd become so good at estimating how much repairs were going to cost. Jeeps were durable, sturdy, and Stiles hadn't assumed that he'd be driving full speed over dirt roads in the forest, or driving through buildings to run over humans. Were lizards. Whatever.

In short, Stiles had not anticipated werewolves, and he was paying the price. Literally.

Stiles stood in front of his house, staring at the jeep intently, eyes sharp, while mentally contrasting the money in his bank account verses amount of damage to his baby's frame. Stiles considered the possibility of adding a deer wrack to his jeep (though the added weight would wreck his gas mileage), when the sound of a boot scuffing on the side walk caused the teen to flinch, and twist his entire body to the source of the sound.

Standing tall (and in leather? Seriously, everyone involved in this whole werewolf debacle seemed to own leather clothing. Stiles might need to invest in some for himself), and looking distinctly amused, Mr. Deaton gave Stiles a little wave.

Stiles wondered how long the vet had been standing there, and then decided that he didn't want to know. Zoning out might be normal (especially with ADHD), but that didn't make it any less embarrassing. Seeing that the vet hadn't walked away, Stiles determined that the older man wanted to talk to him, so he strolled down the driveway.

"Hey." Stiles went for casual, but the slight crack in his voice betrayed him. Stiles looked Mr. Deaton over, and realized that the vet looked different, more serious, or intimidating. The teen barely managed to return his attention to Mr. Deaton rather than allowing himself to consider if Derek or Mr. Deaton would win an intimidation contest.

"The Mountain Ash worked for you. Would you like to learn how to do more?" Stiles' mouth dropped open, just a touch.

"Uh, nice to see you're doing well. " Small talk might be small, but you don't just launch into conversations about magic on the sidewalk in the middle of suburbia. It's weird! And it's not even dark yet.

"Stiles." Mr. Deaton doesn't have much of a facial expression, but he still manages to exude earnestness. "This is serious. I can teach you. I can teach you how to use that spark."

"Yeah, but still, you might want to work on your lead in." Mr. Deaton shrugged and continued.

"Look, Stiles. I wasn't sure that it would work for you. But it did, and it's a waste to have a talent for Sparking and not learn how to use it." Stiles held back the giggles that threatened to overtake his body. He really couldn't help it. Sparking? The name sounds like some stupid frat-boy game involving firecrackers or car batteries.

Mr. Deaton looked at Stiles, and the boy froze. The urge to laugh, or make jokes died suddenly, and the teen nodded solemnly.

"Yes. I'd like, no, totally scratch that, I need to learn how to do more of whatever this is." The teen, self conscious about his outburst, touched his cheek where the bruises from his earlier encounter were still fading. Mr. Deaton nodded, his face a study in blank understanding. The older man was already part way down the block when he turned back to face Stiles.

"I'd be grateful if you didn't mention this training to anyone else." Stiles nodded, willing to agree with the request even if he didn't understand it. It wasn't like it would be a secret for long, not with werewolf senses.

"Excellent. I'll see you tomorrow, early, at the clinic."

/`/`/`/`/`/`~~~~~~~~~~~~~/`/`/`/`/`/`/

Finally finished determining that he actually didn't have the money to fix everything that had gone wrong with his jeep, Stiles returned to his room, intending on Googling mountain ash or Sparking to see if he could get a little knowledge set up before meeting with Mr. Deaton the next day.

Peter had different plans for him.

Yes, that Peter, the crazy one who'd poisoned, risen from the dead, murdered, driven Lydia crazy, and offered to turn Stiles into a werewolf. Peter had done all of that, and in no particular order.

Stiles could have laughed. After his chat with Mr. Deaton, Peter flicking through a book on top of his chest of drawers was almost par for the course. Almost.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles' voice cracked, but this time it failed to bother him. After all, being afraid of a rabid werewolf fell under the rational fears clause, so Stiles didn't have to worry about his manliness.

Peter didn't even have the grace to look up, just continued to wander through Stiles' room, touching various objects, and smiling ever so slightly.

"I'd wondered when you'd show up." Peter finally made eye contact, and his smile grew wider. The smile made Stiles wonder if anyone had invented wolfsbane pepper spray, or anything that could incapacitate a werewolf long enough for Stiles to hide somewhere. Or call Scott. Actually, Derek was probably a better bet. Only Stiles wasn't sure drawing attention from the Alpha Werewolf was a good plan. Boyd? Yeah, Stiles could call Boyd.

"And why were you wondering that? In fact, why are you in my room? I thought we were done!" Okay, the speech came out a little melodramatic, but at least Stiles could still use his words, rather than just attempting to run away.

Peter hummed, and looked Stiles up and down. The teen was beginning to think that he maybe should have thought out sassing the crazy werewolf, when Peter finally responded to Stiles question.

"Meeting tonight. It's information you'll want. The subway. Bring Scott." Stiles stared. There were far less threats in this conversation than Stiles associated with having a conversation with a werewolf. While Stiles mulled on this new development, Peter moved forward, one of Stiles socks in his hand.

"You smell stressed." The werewolf continued, as though he hadn't invaded Stiles personal space, and started sniffing. Then he licked his teeth in a way that made Stiles scuttle backwards. Peter chuckled, his eyes on Stiles' face.

"Get there quickly. I'd hate for you to get hurt because you didn't know what was going on." Stiles felt sure a threat existed in the subtext of that comment, and frowned. Peter moved to the window, opening it, and looking at Stiles once more.

"If you need help with your stress, you just let Uncle Peter know. I'll help you." And then he hopped out of the window. Stiles stared at the window, first thinking that Peter Hale was the creepiest man he knew (and that included the man's nephew), and then the teen cursed.

Peter Hale had stolen his socks!

/`/`/`/`/`/`~~~~~~~~~~~~~/`/`/`/`/`/`/

Whenever Stiles thought his life couldn't get weirder, it did. Almost like clockwork. Or a curse.

For instance, he'd though an offer of apprenticeship in magic followed by the world's creepiest invite (seriously, Isaac could have just texted him, or Scott) couldn't be topped, at least not easily.

But then he arrived in abandoned subway hideaway; Derek Hale and his band of misfits handily did away with that assumption.

After all, how often do you walk in on four naked werewolves spooning?

Stiles had already turned around, muttering to himself about how Peter had told invited him to a meeting, not an orgy when Scott grabbed his best friend's arm, and started dragging him toward the naked people.

"What the hell did you do, Derek?" Scott demanded, his voice strident. Scott dropped Stiles' arm, and waded into the pile of (thank god) only mostly naked people, dragging Isaac out. The blond werewolf looked sick, his eyes puffy and dull, hardly reacting to Scott yanking him around like a ragdoll.

Stiles frowned, and looked closer to see what he'd missed. The teen's mouth began creeping open again as his eyes took in more information about the state of Erica and Boyd. The two werewolves had been worked over, and for some reason their werewolf healing hadn't kicked in.

With wide eyes, Stiles looked back at Scott, finally listening to the words his best friend directed at Derek.

"And why weren't you watching out for Isaac? You know how hard it is to take away the pain!" Scott was breathing hard, and Stiles didn't like the look of Scott's eyes. Derek, for his part, hadn't responded to Scott's tirade, but hadn't looked away from the younger wolf. Stiles felt like he should interfere, but considering he still didn't know what had happened, the teen decided to try to keep his mouth shut.

Scott continued talking, and Stiles considered the three werewolves on the floor. Derek looked drained, like he needed to sleep it off (whatever "it" was), but had no wounds obvious from his position behind Erica and Boyd. He was clutching both of the wounded teens to his chest, and lines of black intermittently raced up his forearms. Erica and Boyd were asleep, or at least unconscious, and had blood and mud caked over their bodies. Unfortunately, the coating did nothing to disguise how badly they'd been beaten, clawed or bitten. Stiles swallowed down the certainty that they would already be dead if Derek hadn't been there to hold them together (literally).

Stiles' mouth opened and spoke without his consent, ignoring the fact that Scott was midsentence.

"Did Gerard do this?" Stiles could feel his heart speeding up, the idea of the newly turned psycho running loose scaring him more than he would ever admit. Gerard's ability as a human were too great, and the idea of him hyped up with superpowers haunted Stiles subconscious, reminding the teen of his vulnerabilities.

"Alpha pack." Derek ground out, his eyes slowly shifting from Scott to Stiles. "The Alpha pack did this."

Scott glanced from Derek and then to Stiles. His face held an expression that Stiles associated with puzzlement. Blank puzzlement.

"What's an Alpha pack?" Scott questioned. Derek kept his eyes on Stiles, but responded to Scott's question.

"Multiple alphas all in the same pack." Derek's eyes flashed red, reminding them of the differences between a 'normal' werewolf and an alpha. Stiles shivered.

"Do you want to give us some more details than that? Like how we pissed them off enough for them to do that? Or when they got here? Or what we're going to do?" Scott's expression changed from the puzzled expression that Stiles felt used to; over to an expression Stiles saw only rarely- concern.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Stiles ignored Scott's attempt at sympathy and stared with determination at Derek, willing the alpha to answer his questions. Derek growled slightly, still staring at Stiles. It had reached creeper status earlier in the conversation, but still had nothing on Peter.

"Look, Stiles. Now? Not the best time for this conversation. What do you need to know? You're safe. For now." Derek shut his eyes, and Stiles almost screamed in frustration. About to step forward and tear a hole into Derek (using his words. No matter how weak the werewolf looked, Stiles knew better than to think he could take him physically, even with Scott's help), Stiles felt a tug on his arm.

Looking next to him, the wide blue eyes of Isaac subtly pleading for him to drop it for now, Stiles froze, and sighed.

"This isn't over." Stiles said instead. "Scott and I are taking Isaac to get some food." And to pry whatever information Isaac might have gleaned out of him, but Stiles didn't feel the need to inform Derek of that fact.

"But you let us know when Erica and Boyd wake up. Then we'll discuss this, and whatever else you've been keeping from us." Trying to keep his breathing even, Stiles stalked from the warehouse, hoping that everyone had been fooled by his show of bravado. Hoping that Scott would follow his lead.

It could happen. Stranger things had happened that night.

/`/`/`/`/`/`~~~~~~~~~~~~~/`/`/`/`/`/`/

Well, I hope you liked it! It's un-beta-ed, so I apologize for any mistakes. If you point them out, I'll fix them, I promise.

I have this entire thing plotted out, and it comes out to roughly ten chapters, with two more stories after it. It's the longest thing I've ever attempted, so if you have anything to say, please tell me. I need all the comments I can get.

It's intended to be Sterek, but nothing overtly slashy will occur in this particular story. Just a lot of slow building friendship.

If you have questions, comments, or concerns, please, please, please let me know. I might miss something, or forget something important, and I'd prefer not too!

Amanda


	2. Six Impossible Things

Stiles felt wrong as soon as he woke up.

The feeling persisted longer than simple dislike that flooded Stiles' whenever he woke up before eleven on a Saturday. Instead, Stiles glanced around, trying to figure out what in his room could cause him to feel this heavy weight of wrong.

He rolled out of bed, dragging his body through the morning motions (washing his face, brushing his teeth, changing into his clothes), but the same feeling persisted.

As Stiles' headed out the door, his bag readied for a day of learning magic, he glanced around a final time.

Sweeping his eyes across the room, Stiles growled petulantly, and stomped out of his room.

He'd figure out what had gone wrong later.

He always did; sooner or later.

/`/`/`/`/`/`~~~~~~~~~~~~~/`/`/`/`/`/`/

Stiles really needed to stop watching horror movies.

Though walking into the clearly closed clinic would have still bothered him, horror movies or not, he might not have seen so many parallels if he hadn't watched so many extras killed off walking into the lairs of mysterious entities.

Mr. Deaton was totally a mysterious entity.

Gerard, Derek, Peter: they all had backstories, families, documented existences from before high school began.

Mr. Deaton had moved to Beacon Hills around freshman year, and had hired Scott over the summer. He didn't date, he didn't seem to have any family, and there was a reason Stiles had believed that Mr. Deaton could have been the secret Alpha.

With these thoughts in mind, Stiles hesitated slightly as he entered the clinic by the front door. No one knew where he had gone. Mr. Deaton had explicitly wanted Stiles to keep this a secret.

Stiles sighed, and kept going.

There had been the possibility of him dying like the comedic element that he'd always been since Scott had received the bite. For the ability to do- well, whatever the mountain ash counted as, or magic, or Sparking, Stiles would risk it.

"Mr. Deaton?" Stiles called, shutting the door behind him. He kept walking forward, not bothering to wait for an answer. He walked up to the gate, and pushed it.

The gate didn't budge.

Stiles frowned, and looked for whatever latch was keeping it shut, but there didn't seem to be one. He shoved it again, and heard a laugh from behind the gate.

"Mountain Ash doesn't just work on Werewolves you know." Stiles stumbles slightly, leaning on the immobile gate to keep his balance.

"It also works on humans who believe. Come in." The gate moves easily, and Stiles falls into the back office, attempting to hold onto his dignity (but feeling like he was failing miserably).

"So, if I didn't believe in werewolves the gate would have always moved?" Stiles questioned, as Mr. Deaton beckoned him into the medical room.

"Not quite. If you were the sort of person who didn't believe in anything supernatural: no werewolves, no magic, no witches, or, ah, anything else, and you didn't believe strongly enough, then the gate wouldn't have effected you."

Stiles frowned at the older man. If Stiles had been a wolf, he would have claimed that he smelt deceit. Or made a crack about how omission counted as a lie. But Stiles wasn't, and this might be his only chance to reclaim the power he'd harnessed at the rave, and he wasn't going to risk it by mouthing off at the moment.

Maybe later.

"So, does it work on all humans if they believe in." Stiles waved his arms around, "all of this?"

"If they have a Spark, then yes." Stiles nodded, digging into his pack to pull out the journal he was going to store all the pertinent details in. He'd transfer it to a computer later- Stiles had a feeling having his own bestiary was a good idea.

"But belief is important? Like, none of this works if you don't believe, or I could stop something if I could make myself not believe it was happening? Or-"

Stiles forcibly stopped himself from talking. Letting people answer questions was just as important as asking questions.

Mr. Deaton seated himself, obviously considering how to answer the question. Stiles, not for the first time, found himself jealous of the ability to think before speaking. He took a seat as well, dragging the chair to be a little closer to Mr. Deaton while trying to respect whatever personal space bubble the man might want.

"Belief is the basis." Mr. Deaton said after a minute. "Much of what I do, of what I'll be teaching you, rests on belief, but isn't just belief."

Mr. Deaton smiled, and not for the first time, Stiles notices how blank Mr. Deaton's facial expressions really are.

"Here." Stiles looks down at Mr. Deaton's outstretched hand, and wonders how the man managed to hide a book (especially one with a pungent- though not unpleasant- odor strong enough for Stiles to smell) for so long.

Stiles flipped through the book, taking in the leather bound volume with various pressed flowers and color illustrations above text. He paused on the page with dill pressed on it, reading a snippet, and then looked up at Mr. Deaton.

"Okay, here's what I don't get; if all that matters is my belief, then why did I need the mountain ash? Why do I need to know that dill is apparently good for stress headaches? Why can't I just picture myself without a headache and will it to happen?"

The look on Mr. Deaton's face made Stiles wish that the usual black facial expressions were back. Actual emotions were far creepier than Stiles had expected.

"You can. Now, Stiles, how long can you hold a belief in something you cannot see? How long, for you, before doubt sets in?"

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, and then sighed heavily.

"Probably about a minute. If the Mountain Ash hadn't lasted longer than I'd expected, I probably wouldn't have believed at all."

Mr. Deaton nodded enthusiastically.

"So, you learn as much as you can. You learn if sage or rosemary is better for protection or cleansing, you learn all the uses of mint, fennel, nakhwa, you learn about stones, and symbols, and you use it all to strengthen your belief."

Stiles can't help the cheerful grin that pops up on his face. If Scott had been sitting next to him, Stiles would have punched him in the arm and made a joke about having spent too much time on the computer researching random things being the best choice he'd ever made.

As it was, just picturing it made Stiles smile.

Mr. Deaton didn't comment on it.

"So, get this read, and come back tomorrow."

Stiles blinked, and stood up. He'd been in the clinic for less than an hour. Honestly, he felt a bit ripped off. But Mr. Deaton was clearly serious, and Stiles figured reading the herbal probably counted as the rest of his lesson.

"Uh. Okay. See you tomorrow."

Mr. Deaton has already gone (how did the man move that fast?), so Stiles moved the chair back to where it belonged, and headed out the door.

/`/`/`/`/`/`~~~~~~~~~~~~~/`/`/`/`/`/`/

Halfway through the herbal, Stiles twitched violently when his door was knocked at. Shoving the herbal beneath an innocuous looking schoolbook, Stiles headed over and opened his door.

He blinked.

Lydia Martin was at his door.

Actual Lydia Martin.

Not her personal shopper, or the stunt double he felt sure she had.

Stiles had a sinking suspicion that he'd been staring and gapping for at least a solid minute, so he pulls the door open further, and she enters his room.

He feels thankful for a minute that it's clean, but then she's speaking, and it's at him, and he pulls his attention to her, forcing himself to pay attention to everything she says, and any subtext that might exist under what she's saying.

"Stiles." She's frowning at him, and Stiles realizes that he's focusing too hard, that he'd got to pay attention without policing himself to make sure he's paying attention.

He knows this.

"Yes?"

"I'm in love with Jackson." Lydia reaches up to touch her hair, and Stiles forces his concentration back onto what she's saying, rather than trying to think about when she's worn this hairstyle before, or how much he likes her dress, or that she looks nervous.

It's the fact that she looks nervous that allows him to focus on what she's saying.

"You like me. I need you to not like me."

Stiles opens his mouth to tell her it's not that easy, and that he likes her for her, and that- but she's holding up her hand, so he shuts his mouth.

He's stood up to Lydia Martin exactly once in his life, and he's not ready to try it again.

Not yet, at least.

"That's all I have to say." She tells him, and she walks out the door. Stiles opens his mouth (he's not sure if he's going to say goodbye, or try to make her stop walking away), but freezes when she stops and turns back in his doorway.

"I want you to be my friend. I don't want you to be in the friend zone, I want you to be my friend. You can't do that, and I can't be your friend if you think you're in- if you think you like me."

She's definitely nervous. Stiles really doesn't know what to make of that.

"Jackson and I would both like to be friends with you. So, think about it."

She walked out before he can think of how to respond.

Stiles groaned, and headed back to his assigned reading.

He's only half looking for an herb that helps you get over unrequited love.

.

.

.

/`/`/`/`/`/`~~~~~~~~~~~~~/`/`/`/`/`/`/

Alright folks! I hope you liked it!

Honestly, I'd really love some feedback on what I'm trying to do with Mr. Deaton, so if you have any questions/comments/concerns I'd really like to hear them.

Actually, any comments at all. Seriously. Please review.

Also, someone reminded me that Derek and Stiles actually do have each other's phone numbers, so I'm fixing that in the previous chapter.

See you all soon!

Amanda


	3. Hey! Watch out! Listen!

It didn't take long for Stiles to read the Herbal. Despite the variety of plants identified, the information remained superficial.

However, superficial information still led a wealth of new possibilities.

Stiles could imbed his fence with mountain ash. He could make a Wolfsbane resin and rub it all over his windowsills (it wouldn't kill a werewolf, but it would probably prevent a sneak attack). There were flowers to increase alertness, and herbs to cause sleep.

There was cowslip which both promoted healing, and discouraged visitors.

Yeah, he was planting that. And then hiding dried snips all over his room.

A border of fennel and marigold would prevent unquiet spirits from haunting his home. Not that he had unquiet spirits haunting his house.

But still. It could happen!

Stiles allowed his mind to wander as he looked for a good wholesaler of Mountain Ash. Dr. Deaton might have given him a sack of the ash before, but Stiles had a feeling that after Dr. Deaton spent all this time training Stiles, he'd be expected to at least come up with the basic supplies for magic.

Though, paying for it might be hard. And Stiles still wasn't sure which kind of mountain ash to purchase. Werewolves seemed to be European originally, but maybe American Ash would be more effective on American werewolves.

Stiles frowned, and attempted to drag his attention back to the important facts. Despite all of the ideas that the Herbal had given him, he still hadn't found anything that would make the Alpha pack back off.

Of course, it might have been easier to make them back off if Stiles had any idea what exactly the Alpha pack wanted. Or where they had come from. Or literally anything besides that they were A.) all Alphas, and B.) they'd seriously injured Boyd and Erica.

However, Isaac had been an impossible nut to crack. Despite plying him with food and drink, the teen wolf hadn't told them anything he knew, and had refused to speculate (sacrilege!).

And then Isaac had convinced Scott to wait by promising that Derek would talk to them today. Stiles would believe it when he heard it.

Derek didn't give out information. He took information, and didn't explain why it was important.

Stiles tapped his fingers, and check his phone for the fourth time that evening.

With no notifications to distract him, Stiles' mind drifted back to Derek's tendency to horde information like one of those people on Hoarders.

Maybe Stiles' could whip up some concoction that would force Derek to tell Stiles everything he needed to know. Like that potion from Harry Potter!

Before Stiles could follow that though through, his phone lit up.

It was a text from Scott- Isaac had followed through, and Derek was about to share information.

Stiles snorted.

He wouldn't believe until it actually happened.

/`/`/`/`/`/`~~~~~~~~~~~~~/`/`/`/`/`/`/

Erica and Boyd were awake when Scott and Stiles arrive. Stiles won't admit (even to himself) how relieved seeing the two of them awake made him feel.

Even though they've made terrible life choices, like becoming werewolves, or wearing so much leather.

Or hitting Stiles' over the head with a piece of his jeep.

Actually, all things considered, it's probably a good thing Stiles saw them the day before. Having the mental picture of them looking broken made it much easier to forgive them for any transgression possibly committed.

The cuddle pile from the night before has broken up, with Derek standing off the side, and Erica and Boyd sitting thigh-to-thigh, still noticeably wounded. Isaac was leaning up against some sort of debris, possibly going for causal, but Stiles noticed the quick glances Isaac kept sending Derek.

Stiles glanced around, but Peter and Jackson are nowhere to be seen. Mentally, Stiles shrugged, and carefully picked his way over to where the wolf pack gathered.

"So-," Stiles should probably let Scott talk, but Stiles doesn't actually have the best self-control, especially when it came to being quiet.

"Everyone's awake, Can we get to sharing, like, right away?" Stiles has doubts about exactly how sane he's sounding at this point. He looked at Erica and Boyd expectantly, but it's Derek who starts talking.

"The Alpha pack is here to expand their territory."

Stiles waits for almost a solid minute before realizing that's actually all Derek wanted to say.

"Yeah, so that doesn't actually tell me anything. Maybe start with how they plan on taking this territory? Or why they chose to attack Erica and Boyd? How about the relative safety of the non-were members of this town?"

Derek glared, and Stiles wished that he'd had more time with the Herbal. Seriously, Derek and a truth potion had a date with destiny.

"Derek joins them, or they kill us all." Isaac bit his lip after speaking, and looked down. Stiles tried not to smile. He wasn't sure why the beta had decided to spill the beans now, but Stiles won't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"See, was that hard?" Stiles snapped, his mind considering these new parameters.

"So," Stiles continued, "the rest of the population should be fine. I'm assuming there is a reason that you aren't considering joining them?"

Derek gave Stiles a look that Stiles promptly ignored.

"Okay, so just to recap; Derek is going to refuse to join this pack, which means all the Alphas are going to be gunning for the werewolves of Beacon Hills."

Stiles huffed.

"Okay, so plus side: I'm safe. Negative side: none of you are." Stiles opened his mouth to continue talking, but apparently Derek had decided to rejoin the conversation.

"They'll target pack." Stiles nodded, wanting to sigh. Just joining the conversation was a big step, he tried to tell himself. Maybe, one day, Derek would even be able to add new information, rather than just restating what Stiles had already said.

"Okay, so did they give you time to decide?"

"Two weeks," Isaac calls. Stiles mentally reminded himself to feed all of Derek's pack. Clearly others are more susceptible to his charm. Or Scott's.

Stiles spared a glance over at his best friend, who looked angry and concered. But he also looked like he was okay with Stiles taking the lead in this interrogation, so Stiles gave his attention back to Derek and Isaac.

"Okay, so." Stiles frowned, sidetracked. "Why isn't Jackson here?"

"Why would Jackson be here?" Derek growled.

"Because he's part of your pack?" Stiles looked at Scott in confusion, and the two shared a frown.

"He's not Pack." Derek spit, looking furious, and if Stiles was to be consulted, incredibly wolfy. Isaac gave Scott a quick look, and Scott responded by grabbing Stiles' arm, and pulling him backwards slowly.

"Well, we have two weeks to think of something." Stiles called, allowing Scott to slowly drag him out of the abandoned subway.

"Try to keep us in the loop, okay Derek?" Stiles face scrunched up a few seconds after the wording of his final sentence sunk in. Stiles may have forgiven Scott's previous foray into the world of keeping secrets, but he didn't really want to remind either of them, and exactly how badly Stiles had faired when kept out of the loop.

Derek didn't respond, and the two teens slipped out of the warehouse.

/`/`/`/`/`/`~~~~~~~~~~~~~/`/`/`/`/`/`/

"We should tell Allison."

"And Jackson and Lydia."

Scott and Stiles had both spend the drive almost complete silent. The facts about the Alpha pack were puzzling, and the whole situation required more consideration than either of them wanted to give.

It was only after Stiles parked his jeep in front of Scott's house that the two of them stopped thinking, and started brainstorming.

"You should tell your dad."

"How did your mom take it?" Stiles tried not to cringe after Scott gave him a shrug that said that the talk could have gone better, but no one had died. Stiles felt increasingly certain that his talk with his father was going to make Scott's talk look heavenly.

"Well, that's a ringing endorsement to tell my father. But I will." Stiles shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and looked at Scott seriously.

"So, I'll tell Lydia and Jackson, and you'll get the Argents informed?" When Scott nodded, and exited the jeep, Stiles took a minute before turning the jeep back on. He was going to reread the Herbal. But this time he was going to look for ideas on how to keep himself safe from other humans.

The reminder that the Argents were still involved in this was something Stiles should not have ignored.

/`/`/`/`/`/`~~~~~~~~~~~~~/`/`/`/`/`/`/

The plot thickens!

Or possibly becomes less murky. I don't know.

Please review! It really does make me update faster, I promise. Let me know how I'm doing, or if you have any questions, or any mistakes you might see. I hope you're enjoying yourself!

Next chapter includes: Lacrosse, Derek, Dr. Deaton being sassy.


End file.
